I Know You
by LaughingLadybug
Summary: Henry and Grace are sixteen and from two different worlds. Henry is a prince and the grandson of Rumplestilskin. Grace is the crazy guy's daughter. The Mad Hatter's baby girl. Henry has a crush on her and she doesn't know that he knows she exist. She knows him...but how. How would their two world's be connected by a simple strand? One-shot.


She's sixteen, beautiful, and walking his way. Henry and his father were in his grandfather's shop. Little does Grace know that she's the only one that Henry has eyes for; or the fact that he even knows her name. She's the crazy guy's daughter; the mad hatter's baby girl. He's the prince, the grandson of the Dark One. Why would someone so great, someone with so many possibilities open to him, care about her? But he did, he did care. Henry cared so much that he visibly became nervous. "What's wrong," Belle asked him in concern. "Are you ill? Henry? Henry?"

Henry took a breath, "I'm find Grandma, just, um, be cool. All of you; especially you, Dad." Neal blinked in surprise. He was the cool parent so why was Henry going off on him. Neal actually felt worried about his son. Henry was unshakeable, nothing really rattled his cage. Right when the man was about to open his mouth, Grace walked in, which made Neal smirk. So this is what got his boy all nervouse.

"Hi Ms. Belle," Grace said sweetly in a timid voice. She didn't expect this many people to be around.

"Morning, Grace," Belle said with a smile. "I see you have that painting I asked for. Thank you so much."

"It was no trouble no need to thank me," Grace answered.

"I didn't know you painted," Henry piped up, trying to get her to notice him.

"I didn't know you knew me," she quipped, though no one knew it. It sounded harsher than she meant. However, Henry knew Grace. She wouldn't hurt a fly. So, he looked past it.

"Yeah, you're the mad hatter's daughter, right," he asked.

Her dark brown eyes looked down. "Yeah, that's me." A piece of golden brown hair slipped in front of her eyes and she daintily brushed it out of the way.

Honk, honk, when her father's car horn. Grace knew she was taking too long, but she was having too much fun. So the young girl pretended not to hear. "So, um, you really like to draw and paint and all that," asked the sixteen year old boy.

"Yeah. I've been at it for a while. I mostly do impressionism, but realism is no problem," Grace answered. "Are you an artist."

He couldn't help. It's just that Grace was sitting there and looking at him so hopefully and she's so sweet….and…and, "Yeah, for about four years now." The truth is Henry couldn't draw a stick figure with a stick. "I'm nowhere near as great as you, though. I can draw cartoons and stuff like that but I can't do realism." He then looked at the painting she had handed bell. It was one of a rose and a chipped cup sitting on a table. The glow around it and the simplicity of it made it all the more beautiful. "Maybe you could teach me? Make me better."

"Sure, how about Saturday," she replied with a small little smile. Finally, she had someone to hand out with!

"Sounds like a date," he said as she began to head out the door, "I mean date like an appointment!" Grace laughed a laugh that sounded like little bells to Henry before she tried to leave again. This time more urgently since her Papa was trying to walk in. "By the way, I'm-"

"Don't worry I know who you are," she assured as Jefferson stood there, waiting for his daughter.

"Grace-"

"You do," Henry asked with a little smile.

"Yeah," she said, ignoring her father. "You're the boy who would pour glue all over his cookies, call it frosting, then eat," she laughed. "Bye Henry." Before leaving, Jefferson gave Henry a warning glare. A look that told Henry to watch his back. Neal returned a glance to him, one that warned him not to touch his son. Not unless he had a death wish.

After they left, Neal put a hand on his shoulder and said, "C'mon Hen, let's go."

"Wait, why? I thought you had to help Grandpa with stocking the shelves," Henry questioned.

"I finished that earlier. Right now, I have to get you home for dinner then teach you how to draw," Neal answered.

"Why, I can-"

"Barely draw a stick figure," Neal said, cutting his son off. "And you told that girl you can draw cartoons. So, unless you want to be proven a liar on your first date-I mean appointment," he said teasingly, "then I better get you home and get started on this."

"Thanks Dad," Henry said gratefully as he held the door open for him.

"No problem buddy. So tell me," Neal started. "What does glue tasted like?"


End file.
